Basic Training
by PinChajta
Summary: Uhura's start of her Starfleet career. Change in rating...
1. First Year

STARDATE 2254.181

LOCATION: STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, EARTH

Graduation from high school was nothing of a distant memory as Nyota strode across the main quad of Starfleet Academy. A tall brunette woman walked briskly next to her—back straight and her gait that of purpose. Looking at the woman's square shoulders, Nyota knit hers together a little closer if that were possible. This woman had introduced herself as Cadet MacKenna: a third year aspiring xenohistorian.

She had been training for the last year to be in peek physical condition for the coming basic training. Even though the Academy followed the traditional northern hemispheric academic calendar, there were still plenty of cadets walking the grounds to and from summer classes. Cadet MacKenna spoke, "You will be bunking in the freshmen dorms for three months until the end of BT in Burton Hall. After that, your placement from your entrance exams will see fit to which department you belong. Did you get your scores yet Cadet?"

Nyota kept pace with her, although somewhat crookedly because of the large duffle on her shoulder, "Yes, I qualify for the communications department because of my linguistics background…"

"Save it Cadet for someone who cares. A simple yes or no will suffice," MacKenna bluntly stated, causing Nyota to blink, "Well here you are. This is the keycard to enter the dorms. BT starts at 0500 everyday except Sundays. Be ready in your uniform which you can acquire in Burton on the third floor." With no goodbye, the cold-shouldered cadet about-faced and briskly walked off.

Nyota readjusted her duffle and entered the hall with the attained keycard. Small halls and grey walls were filled with bustling, young, anxious cadets. Most cadets were 18 Earth years of age while a handful were the prodigies of 15 to 17 years old. It was cramped, loud, and she was getting a lot of looks.

Nyota Uhura was modest but she knew that she could get any guy that she wanted. She didn't want _any_ guy. She was the type of young woman who planned out everything possible. She had planned to enter into Starfleet after high school: check. Next was to prove herself in Basic Training to be assigned onto a ship within 4 years. After that, be assigned to the best ship in the fleet—the _Enterprise_—and prove herself the best communications officer the fleet has seen. In all of this, there wasn't time for a man to be a distraction.

The young African woman had had relationships in high school but she was mature enough to know that they would never last, let alone mean anything at that age.

Finding her room that she was assigned, she made quick acquaintance of her three-month roommate and fell asleep by 2057, hoping idly that that would be sufficient for tomorrow's hard work.


	2. Sucker Punch

STARDATE 2254.202

LOCATION: STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, EARTH

In every physical activity, Cadet Uhura was always in the top five: running, swimming, biking, trekking, circuits, and phaser training.

Today a new Lieutenant was to lead this exercise: defense training. Apparently, he had finished his four years as a cadet within two years and arose to the rank of Lieutenant faster than any other Terran…but rumor had it was that he wasn't Terran.

No, he was Vulcan.

The first-years were lined up neatly in the center of the gym facing towards meters and meters of padding; Uhura strategically placing herself in the front center. Exactly at 0700 the Lieutenant strode in, clothed in loose fitting black slacks and a long sleeved shirt. He stopped at the corner of the pads and slipped off his large black shoes. Underneath were tight black sox. He strode to the front of the group of 20 cadets and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Good Morning Cadets and welcome to the first of your series of combat training. I am Lieutenant Spock," the Vulcan spoke smoothly and slowly, "We will first begin with defense. Your commanding officers have chosen me to lead this exercise because I have full belief that Terrans and fellow sentient beings should always prevent any hand-to-hand altercations rather than pursue them." Uhura watched with something next to admiration as the Lieutenant made it his prerogative to make eye contact with every cadet in the ensemble.

"We will divide ourselves into groups of three but first, I require two volunteers for an example."

Nyota rose her hand immediately. The lieutenant opened his palm towards the spot next to him and she rightfully took her spot beside him, standing at attention. "Cadet…"

"Cadet Uhura, Sir," the young Terran stated, starring ahead at the crowd.

"I require one more volunteer."

Silence.

Instead, the Lieutenant gestured his palm towards a cadet in the back row, "The cadet with the short black hair: step forward." Said cadet nudged his way through the front row and took his place next to Uhura.

"Cadet Sulu, Sir."

"In your groups of three, one cadet will stand aside to aid the defender—verbally only, to effectively distract the said defender. This is a lesson that is meant to show you that the odds will relatively rarely be in your favor," the Lieutenant turned away from the larger group and turned towards the two demonstrative cadets. "Cadet Sulu, attack Cadet Uhura."

The young man turned, "Excuse me sir?"

"I can see the logic that you believe Cadet Uhura may not be able to defend herself from a man, especially one that is approximately zero point three three meters taller than her and probably about eighteen point one kilos heavier than her. If she is worthy of being a Starfleet Commander, she should be able to defend herself," Spock's eyes flashed down to the short, black woman, still at attention.

"Alright then," Sulu mouthed softly before he stepped back to swing a side kick into her stomach.

Uhura gasped and quickly turned and bent an elbow into her side, defending her vital organs from the swift kick with her forearm. It hurt, but it was effective.

Lieutenant Spock turned towards the astonished cadets, softly murmuring to themselves at the ease at which Uhura and Sulu moved. Next to him, his volunteers adjusted back to standing at attention. "As you can see, the exercise is to catch the other off-guard or in a precarious position. Break up into your groups and begin."

The cadets obliged, seemingly having too much fun and holding back punches on each other. Spock kept his attention on Sulu and Uhura, going through another drill. "Now, Cadet Sulu: if you would please attempt to distract me from defending myself. Cadet Uhura, attack me."

Sulu stood with his arms crossed over his chest situated at Spock's back. Spock faced Uhura, truly looking at her for the first time. Uhura didn't know where to begin or how to attack. Then Sulu spoke, "God, Lieutenant, doesn't she have great tits?"

In a matter of an instant, Spock's brows knit together and he began to turn just as Uhura gave him a strong fist into the corner of his jaw.

All action in the gym seized movement.

Both Sulu and Uhura stood to attention from behind and in front of Spock, respectively. There was an imperceptible tug at one corner of the Vulcan's lips and disappeared as he regarded the gym full of cadets. "This is exactly the matter of distraction I meant for this exercise to obtain. Cadet Sulu successfully distracted my attention for an instant thus allowing Cadet Uhura to lay a punch." He gave Uhura a curt nod. "Proceed without my presence. I must observe how the other cadets are performing."

"Sir," Sulu and Uhura said in unison as the Lieutenant strode away to the other groups, giving advice where it was needed. They continued sparring, Uhura staying low and Sulu using a lot of kicks.


	3. Morning Jog

STARDATE 2254.203

LOCATION: WESTERN ADDITION, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, EARTH

At 0435, a Vulcan awoke before the sun rose; before life began bustling through the streets of San Francisco; before daily concerns and tasks should begin.

Spock stared at his ceiling: white. He breathing was deep and he rose slowly off his bed, bringing his feet to the carpeted floor. Carpeted flooring was something that he had never experienced until he stayed at his maternal grandparents' home in Sacramento, California. The sensation had been odd on his bare feet and chose for quite some time to wear socks continuously around. Time had passed and he had come to appreciate the texture and comforting feel it presented to the base of his body.

He padded to his bathroom and brushed his teeth, washed his face, and fingered his hair back into accordance. Looking closely at himself in the mirror, he noticed a small patch of green that had grown in the sharp corner of his jaw. He brought a set of fingers up to touch it. It throbbed but he didn't flinch: there was no need. The young woman that had caused this new discoloration to this region of his body may be in need of more thought as to how she could have produced such force…

His internal clock told him it was 0445. He would have grumbled at being off schedule but his training knew better than that.

Slipping into form-fitting athletic attire and running shoes, Spock was out the door by 0450 and was jogging briskly at 9.12 miles per hour through the southeast end of the Presidio.

Running this early had its benefits. There were no pedestrians in the sidewalks, except for the occasional seemingly homeless person. Homelessness was rampant throughout the Bay Area no matter how many programs had been put into effect throughout the 21st and 22nd centuries. It was a concept that was foreign to Spock because on Vulcan no citizen was overlooked or useless. From birth, a Vulcan was raised with the best education; proving oneself whether or not they were worthy to study at the Sciences Academy. If not, jobs and occupations were always available. It wasn't a concern of funding or resources because Pon Farr kept the population in control. There were never too many people that the planet could not handle. That equation had been found out centuries ago: what resources were available versus what resources needed to be used.

That was another tangent Spock's mind went into as he passed along the edges of the Starfleet Academy: there simply were too many people on planet Earth. The Federation had been founded at the most opportune time for humanity…they needed to look beyond the planet for more resources and technologies to survive. He thought it sadistic to believe that the Eugenics War of the late 21st was almost useful for the planet to survive: allow the dominating creature to eradicate itself into submission to the planet's waning outputs.

He came quickly to the steep hills of the coastline of the west side of the peninsula and turned inward to count his heart rate as he continued moving forward. Pulse: 220 beats per minute. Just above resting heart rate.

0520: jogging through the "college" part of town where students from University of California, San Francisco made its home. Students were far from being awake. Delivery trucks to small shops made their way slowly through the dark streets.

Along Lincoln Avenue, Spock glimpsed at a few passing joggers, all singular and going at a much slower pace. One runner caught his eye, though.

Cadet Uhura.

She was going at a pace at about 6.70 miles per hour and was "zoning out" with small ear buds hidden in her ears, intently listening to sort of music.

Keeping his pace, Spock checked the road quickly, crossed, caught up to her, slowed to her pace and ran by her side.

Nyota glanced at him quickly and her eyes widened, hands going to her ear buds, removing them. Without stopping her pace, she said simply, "Good morning, Lieutenant."

"Good morning, Cadet." He didn't bother looking at her.

They continued jogging without speaking for exactly 4 minutes and 46 seconds. Spock began urging her pace to speed up, taking slightly faster steps. She kept up perfectly. Sooner than later, they were back up to his pace.

Her breathing was rhythmically controlled in through her nose, out through her mouth. Spock's breathing was much, much slower due to his larger lung capacity.

Just as he had found comfort in carpet underneath his feet, he now found a feeling of comfort in keeping pace with her.

The cadet finally spoke, struggling for oxygen to create the words, "My turn is coming up soon. Will we be seeing you again for training?"

"Regrettably, you will not. That was my only part in this year's cadet basic training."

"Oh."

A couple more blocks.

"Will you be teaching next semester?"

"Affirmative. I will be teaching Basic Romulan Syntax, Xenolinguistics and Theologies, Xenobiology, and Advanced Vulcan."

"I've always wanted to learn Vulcan. I know that it's similar to Romulan, a language I'm already slightly familiar with…"

"Cadet, you are required to be a third-year student before you are able to secure any advanced linguistics course…"

"Op! Here's my turn."

He stopped as she jogged slowly backwards, away from him. This was the first time he looked at her since he found her on the street. She was flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, breasts bouncing slightly under her tight sports bra…

He was going to have to meditate…

"Don't worry yourself Lieutenant, I'll prove myself worthy of an advanced course," she said as she turned with a smile and retreated from him. She spun quickly to face him again, feet still bouncing, "And sorry about the bruise!"

As she retreated, he lifted a set of fingers again up to his jaw.


	4. Linguistics Bump

STARDATE 2254.271

LOCATION: STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, EARTH

It was the first day of the fall semester and Nyota could barely sleep the night before in a fit of anticipation. Her schedule was fulltime: Federation Policies and Regulations at 0700; Interstellar Warping and Mapping at 0900; Xeno Beliefs and Government at 1100; lunch break at 1230 and the possibility of adding Lieutenant Spock's Advanced Vulcan at 1400; continuing on at 1700 to 1900 for Strength Conditioning and Movement in the gym. Nyota had scheduled in study sessions Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 2000. She was planning to wake up each morning at 0500 to run or swim and eat then bathe by 0630. She was addicted to the rush of running or swimming in the morning. From the past three months, every Sunday Nyota ran through the Presidio, routinely being caught up by Spock. They ran and barely spoke—there wasn't a chance for it because they were running so hard. This pushed her to be better but she knew that she would never be as adequately cardiovascular-supreme as a Vulcan in prime condition.

Nyota had made friends with Hiraku Sulu and a boy-genius by the name of Pavel. She preferred calling him Pavel over his last name of Chekov. At the moment, she was leaving Xeno Beliefs and Government with Sulu next to her. They ate in the cafeteria discussing the lecture that had been presented today. Sulu hunched over his food as if he was a starving man and Nyota ate quickly, hoping to catch the Lieutenant before his class.

"Sorry Sulu, got to go."

"Ah, so you're pursuing the Lieutenant…I see you have no interest in us lowly Terrans," he leaned back, eyeing her, feigning indignation.

She was standing up, packing a PADD away in her bag. "No! It's not that at all and you know it," she smiled. She had a beautiful smile, Sulu thought to himself. "I'm just going to be the best Communications Officer the fleet has seen," she said as she shouldered her bag and turned away from Sulu.

"Best _Chief_ Communications Officer!" Sulu called out to her. She waved it off.

Her step was quick towards the Linguistics Department's offices. Stepping into the head office, she asked the secretary there if the Lieutenant was in his office.

"I'm sorry, Cadet, he has already left for his classroom. Room 216, upstairs on your right," the young woman stated lightly.

Uhura thanked the woman and strode up the stairwell—stairs two at a time. Just as she emerged from the stairwell, she thumped into a ramrod figure, squishing her face into a broad chest immediately and sending her down onto her bottom, sliding slightly on the polished tile floors.

Her hand came up to her nose, "Ow…" and looked up…

"Cadet Uhura."

Sending up mental blocks, Spock reached down a hand and assisted Nyota to her feet. No emotion was emitted through the brief contact but the young woman smiled up at the tall man before her and smoothly pulled her hand away.

"I'm so sorry Lieutenant Spock," and came to attention, "I was not paying attention where I was going…"

"At ease Cadet. What matter brings you to the Linguistics Department?" He asked this as her brushed passed her, moving towards his classroom, expecting the cadet to smartly follow. His stride was fast and she kept up quickly.

"I'm here because I would like to add your Advanced Vulcan class to my schedule. It fits in my schedule and I have plenty of prerequisites…"

"I am not interested in what you would _like_ to do cadet. I am interested rather in why you believe I should allow you into a course that is offered to upper classmen only while you are clearly a freshmen."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of recognition of her improper belief that she was _able_.

"If I may speak freely sir."

"I welcome it." He was now behind the podium of his classroom. There were no students there yet for it was still 20 minutes prior to the start of said class. He took a PADD out that he didn't need for reference but rather for the students to acknowledge that he might need help in covering the material in his lecture. Spock knew he would never have to refer to it.

"While you believe that I may not be able to perform adequately in _your_ classroom, give me the chance and I can prove you wrong."

Spock turned to her, eyeing her breathing deeply, and lifted an eyebrow to her challenge. He thought for a moment and strode up into her personal space—rather the personal space that was meant for a Vulcan: 1.2 meters close.

"The _chance_ that I will give you is not one to prove me wrong but rather an opportunity to improve your skills in the Vulcan language, both high and low, including ancient _Sh-tiek-al_. If you do not meet my requirements by the first quiz, I will drop you from the course."

"So you're allowing me to join your class?" A smile was slowly spreading across her face. Spock tried not to show his disdain for humans that deemed it necessary to repeat the obvious that was previously stated.

"That is accurate." He turned back to his podium and began reading something on his PADD—an article about the possibility of transwarp beaming.

Uhura moved after a moment and took a seat in the front of the classroom. Students slowly began filtering into the classroom. She was going over her schedule on her PADD, briefly looking up at the Lieutenant.

The young woman looked for a moment too long—looking at the swoop of his ears that shot up into the stars, the deep angle of his brow, thick strong nose, slightly pale green skin, and lastly full lips—maybe paying attention in this class was going to more difficult than she had anticipated.


	5. Park Downpour

STARDATE 2254.305-351

LOCATION: STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, EARTH

Spock enjoyed routine and appreciated the fact that he still got to see Cadet Uhura running every Sunday morning through the Presidio. His routine rarely faltered until one brisk morning, she was ahead of schedule by 33.05 seconds.

Jogging smoothly behind her from across the street, the young Vulcan thought how pleasing it was to watch the rear end of the cadet. It was clad in a tight black material that clung from her hips to her knees and modestly flared out from there, exposing her ankles. Continuing jogging, his eyes came to stop on her hips, small but pleasantly curved—a perfect shape that he could rest his large hands on…

He seized running.

Hitching a right towards UCSF, Spock cut through a back way to get back hurriedly to his apartment.

Mediation was in order.

The following Sunday, Spock made sure to get out of the door sooner—not risking the chance to be caught behind the vigorous cadet.

Nyota caught up to Spock, seeing him approximately 200 meters in front of her, and called out to him, "Good morning Lieutenant. I didn't see you last week. Were you not feeling well?"

The Lieutenant gave her a side glance as they kept his pace, "That may be the proper expression for it." Spock never lied, but he didn't have to tell the truth either.

They didn't speak for awhile.

Nyota finally said, a couple blocks before her turn back to the Academy, "I'm glad you allowed me to stay in your course, sir."

"You proved yourself worthy of the upper level education. I had nothing to do with your accomplishment."

It would seem his words would have a bite to them, but before Nyota could think otherwise, the Lieutenant slowed to a stop.

"Cadet, I have come to a plateau in my running routine. Next week I will be extending my route down to the northern edge of Golden Gate Park. If our paths do not cross again, I hope you will not think of me as evading you."

Nyota had to smile through breathing deeply, "No Lieutenant." She frowned quickly and looked up at him, "Isn't hope unfounded? Especially when you're challenging me to beat down my running plateau as well?"

"Unfounded, no. Illogical, yes."

The young woman shook her burning legs out, "Well, let's see if I can find you next week running about the park. I'll see you in class, Lieutenant."

Spock nodded his head, "Cadet."

And she was off, trying not to over think the fact that that might have been the most they had ever spoken to each other.

***

A Starfleet Officer's home can be made on-campus or off-campus. It was by choice of said Officer. Most men and women chose off-campus when they were done with their five-year missions mostly because they wanted to start families.

Spock chose to live off-campus because he preferred having his privacy stay private.

People didn't have to know that he preferred taking hot water showers over sonic showers; they didn't have to know that when he was done with all of his lesson plans, grading, and current studies article readings, he would put his feet up on his coffee table to enjoy science fictional novels about the possibilities of Earth losing its sun, the idea of the apocalypse on the twenty-first day of their twelfth month in the year 2012, and how the planet may be overrun with a disease that would not only wipe out a population but leave its remaining inhabitants to suffer side effects that caused them to go mad.

People didn't have to know that he only slept 4 hours in the evening; they didn't have to know that some nights he wouldn't even be home but rather perusing interspecies possibilities of the Earth "night life."

People didn't have to know that after getting to know what little he could about Cadet Uhura, Nyota, once it came around to the Terran month of December, he began craving something more from her.

***

She had found him around the outer rim of Golden Gate Park and they pushed each other passed their own running potential. This caused her to sweat more, become more flushed in the face, and her clothing became more and more adherent to her skin. It wasn't until one Sunday in mid-December that they were sparsely chatting about the approach of this semester's finals—running through the woven paths and forested innards of the park—that Spock's stance in his relationship with this cadet changed. The morning had already been dark, this early in the morning, but a thunder bolt crackled in the distance, possibly over the none-too-distant ocean.

It began pouring.

The cadet squealed and smiled, picking up her pace, practically sprinting full speed through the trails. Spock blinked and bolted after her.

She began laughing aloud through her panting. Once they reached the eastern rim of the park, they slowed, returning to a jog then halted.

Nyota was still panting and smiling brightly, "Isn't the rain wonderful?"

Spock contemplated this statement for a moment. There was rarely a storm let alone brief showers on Vulcan. When these occurred, the populace retreated indoors if they weren't already. When he was a child, Spock would stand just inside the vast balcony stretching out the back of his home, watching the mountains be painted a deeper hue, soaking through like sponges. The hot earth would emit an understood, pure smell that was only Vulcan. Previously, his skin would have protested such an uncomfortable feeling of a risen inner temperature from running covered by the cool rain…

But with Nyota smiling so joyfully at its occurrence, he couldn't help but feel her overwhelming pleasure for the moment. It radiated off of her.

He finally answered her, "Perhaps." She didn't catch him watching her tilt her head back, taking in the contentment of studying water droplet cascade swiftly down her neck. She didn't catch him looking at her bottom lip being bitten in delight or how the change in temperature caused her nipples to stand erect. Something in him stirred darkly.

"My apologies, cadet, but I must be going. I have something to attend to."

Her smile fell away at this statement, "At six o'clock in the morning?" Uhura tilted her head, sighing quickly, "Alright then. See you in your final."

The cadet jogged away from him. Before starting his own pace, he took a moment to calm his senses and his urge to follow after the young cadet. His fingers twitched and his blood was averting itself elsewhere.

The heated half-Vulcan sprinted the whole way home.


	6. Contented Animal

STARDATE 2254.351

LOCATION: SPOCK'S APARTMENT, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, EARTH

A flushed, wet, and aroused half-Vulcan arrived into the corridor of his old apartment complex at precisely 0637 hours. Taking three stairs at a time up to his apartment door to the fourth floor, he quickly entered the code into the door's panel. Upon entering the modest one-bedroom dwelling, he ordered, "Lock front door. Lights: 75%."

He paced straight to the other side, where the window faced out to the street, slowly waking with the rare vehicle passing by dazedly. He paced back to the front door, staring at it as if he were going to ask it a question. Remembering, as a child, he caught his father pacing in the living room after having a dispute with his mother. Spock knew that _this_ moment did not deem any such treatment. His mind wanted to continue the day, but his body wanted a relief from what had been building up from…from what?

Watching Nyota—no Cadet Uhura—run?

Ridiculous. The still-frustrated Vulcan turned about and went to the shower. He peeled off his wet tracksuit quickly, noticing the friction of his pants brushing against his half-hard member. Stepping under the warm water, he mentally ciphered through where this fervor could be coming from. Fervor…

No.

Fever.

Turning 21 on Earth was his deepest fear because he would be far from home during _Pon Farr, _far from concentrating his fleeting emotions and stricken lust into deeper corners of his soul. When he was 7, his first _Pon Farr _was quick and confusing. His father had tied him to his bed, soothingly speaking to him to take him into a trance. Vulcan parents bonded with their children, which came in useful for Vulcan boys' first throws of the ancient blight. Sarek had held Spock's small, quivering fingers with his own, bonding in a familiar and valuable link. Sarek's own meditative mantras and concentration brought Spock back down from his _Plak Tow_. Spock's mind had not been able to handle anymore, at that age, and passed out for two full Vulcan days.

At the age of 14, he sparred and meditated through his faltering control. His mind was more mature and he knew what most of these new bodily urges meant. He wanted to run; he wanted to fly, to fight, to kill, to bite, to suck, to curl up into a heated ball bound for explosion.

He wanted to fuck something: his sparring partner, his teacher, his best friend, anything.

Shutting himself off and running to the cliffs behind his home, he meditated for six days straight.

This time though, he thought he was going to skip right over it for one reason or another because his 22nd birthday was fast approaching and no intensity of _Pon Farr_ had inflicted itself upon him.

As he stood under the warm water, letting whatever healing power it had to sooth him into acceptance that he can control this once again, he dipped his head to wet his hair, emotions of conflict hitting him hard. Meditation was logical because there was no bond mate close. T'Pring was on Vulcan. It would be a disgrace to his family to take any other mate than the one selected for him.

The illogical, irrational, _feral_ Vulcan deep within him wanted to find an outlet. It wanted to kill; it wanted to tear his Terran belongings to shreds; it wanted to bite deep into flesh and mark what would forever be his.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Spock tried so hard. He was losing this battle. From the shower, before he lost himself, he called out to the apartment's controlling computer, "Computer," he growled at the gruffness of his voice, "Lock apartment door permanently for five days, no override. Accept no incoming calls. Send in finished version of my finals to the department head with a message telling them I cannot oversee my students taking the tests."

There was a beep of conformation.

The Lieutenant began soaping his taut body. It loosened instantly at the contact. One arm fell forward to brace himself against the tile. The other hand traveled across his torso and stomach, brisk motion of soaping himself slowing to a lethargic touch. His eyes closed and his head dropped forward as if unhinged by an unseen force.

The cleansing of his body continued to his upper thighs as he breathed deeply for 15 seconds in, 15 seconds out. His hand had a mind of its own and turned inwards to stroke his inner thigh.

An image of a smaller, feminine hand replaced his own in his imagination. At this, logic fought for control in the recesses of his mind, shouting that he should go meditate. His actions were animalistic and shameful.

Letting out a growl, he cupped his testicles. At the touch, they receded closer into his body. Above it, his cock ached to be handled.

His hand went to the head, circling it tightly. His brows knit together and sighed in relief. Starting slowly, said hand began stroking down the shaft, and returned gracefully back to the head, giving it a tight tug.

Spock didn't have to fill his head with images to get himself off, no, the blood fever filled him with countless hormones so there was no need.

His hand went faster, tighter.

His breathing was becoming shallower and labored.

An image of the cadet passed behind his closed eyes and he didn't have the moment in his control to question whether it was sent from his logical side or from the ancient animal. The moment was lost and he was biting himself hard in his shoulder, cock pulsating his seed over his hand and down the drain.

For but a moment, logic poked its head into the situation to give one last opinion on the subject. He shut off the water and sat on the shower floor, going directly into meditation. Spock would not allow this animal to reemerge lest he kill, find a mate, or die. None of those where reasonable choices considering his position at Starfleet…

He didn't move for three days. The animal threatened to emerge, yet it was partially sated by his actions in the shower.

By day four, the animal was contently purring in the far regions of his being.


End file.
